


in a sky full of stars, i think i saw you

by beans



Category: One Direction (Band)
Genre: Fluff, M/M, all my fics are so short wtf im sorry, it's just weed tho so chill, it's literally all fluff, there's some drug abuse at the beginning
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-06-04
Updated: 2014-06-04
Packaged: 2018-02-03 11:00:35
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,622
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1742375
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/beans/pseuds/beans
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Sophomore Harry gets dared to ask senior Louis to homecoming with some cheesy ass note cards. Things go better than planned.</p><p> </p><p>  <strong>Disclaimer: I do not own anything or anyone.</strong></p>
            </blockquote>





	in a sky full of stars, i think i saw you

**Author's Note:**

> title from [this](http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=zp7NtW_hKJI)
> 
>  
> 
> for my beans (nad grampa leah and sheb) oh and just like all my other fics this is un-beta'd so all mistakes are mine

“No- _no_ , fucking _listen_ , you twats!” Niall shouts, standing beside Harry and Liam. The boys’ giddy laughter dies down at Niall’s sudden outburst, eyebrows rising in confusion.

“Whoever rolls a joint the fastest gets to have this leftover weed.” Niall says, holding up a small plastic bag.

“There’s like, a whole dime left. And it’s _good_ hash, for once. We literally _never_ have good shit. Are you sure you wanna give that away?” Liam says, pointing at the bag in Niall’s hand.

“Yes. I want to see your pussy asses roll a fucking joint, ‘kay? Harry, stop fucking petting my dog.”

Harry frowns and pulls his hand away from the golden retriever. “I don’t wanna roll a joint.” Harry mumbles, lips lazily moving as he absorbs the high from earlier.

“You’re _going_ to do it, Styles. Or I’ll make out with Liam right in front of you.” Niall says threateningly. Liam rolls his eyes and shakes his head as Harry jumps up to grab the papers from across the room. When he sits back down, he puts the small, orange box of papers between the three of them, along with the leftover weed.

“On the count of three, we’re all going to grab one paper and a pinch of herb. Whoever rolls the fastest joint wins the weed.” Niall says, smiling at the bag of weed.

“What happens to whoever loses?” Harry questions, yawning silently into his palm.

“Homecoming is coming up, yeah? Whoever loses has to ask a person of the winner’s choice to the dance.” Liam suggest. Niall nods and rubs his hands together, furrowing his eyebrows.

“Ready?” He says, looking back and forth between  Liam and Harry. They nod back, hands reaching out to be prepared to grab the papers and pinch of weed.

“One….” Harry yawns.

“Two...” Niall laughs out.

“…Three!” Liam shouts. Harry jumps and reaches for the papers, ripping one out of the box and spreading it open quickly on his lap. He grabs his pinch of weed, spreading it equally and thoroughly across the center of the paper. He begins rolling from the bottom up, packing the weed tight in the paper.

Harry brings the paper up to his mouth, licking along the lining of the top and sealing the joint shut. He smiles at it when he’s finished. He looks up and frowns.

Liam’s already lit his joint, smoke filling the room while Niall rolls his third, all placed carefully beside him on the carpet. 

“You lost.” Liam says tightly, trying to get the smoke to stay in his mouth longer. Niall looks up and smiles.

“Styles! You’re finally done, yeah? Listen, I decided who you’re going to the dance with.” He says, smirking from across the circle they’re sat in.

Harry groans and puts his face in his hands. “It’s Louis, isn’t it?” Niall laughs loudly and leans over to slap Harry’s knee. He takes that as a confirmation.

A few weeks ago, Harry was shoved onto the soccer pitch in a pair of Niall’s tight boxers, offensively decorated in tiny four-leaf-clovers. He sprinted back towards the locker room door and tugged on the handle that wouldn’t budge.

“C’mon, Nick! Let me in!” Harry shouted, pounding his fist on the door in front of him. Nick opened the door and stepped out quickly, shutting it behind him.

“Sorry, Styles,” Nick said, smiling widely. “Did you need somethin’?”

“ _Yeah_ , asshole, I need my fucking _clothes_.” He said, pushing Nick out of the way and grabbing the door handle. Nick walked away whistling innocently while Harry groaned in frustration.

“How the fuck am I supposed to get my stuff if you locked it in there, Grimshit?”

Nick turned around and placed his hands behind his back. “Well, I dunno, Harold. Guess you’ll have to wait till morning, hm? ‘S when the janitor comes.” He said, backing away and smiling at Harry.

Harry lowered his body and sat on the ground, bare skin pressed against the cold door. He closed his eyes and breathed slowly; listening for any sign that someone is in the locker room. About twenty minutes later, the door opens behind him and Harry fell straight onto his back.

“Um..?” A voice above him said. Harry craned his neck and looks above him where a small boy was standing, dressed in a pair of tight black boxers and a white tank top.

Harry scrambled to his feet, bringing his hands in front of himself to shield his obvious bulge.  The boy cocks an eyebrow and shrugs, holding the door open for Harry to step through.

“Why were you sleeping on the ground in your boxers?” The boys asks, smiling at Harry from across the locker room. Harry frowns.

“I wasn’t sleeping, okay? Nick locked me out and I’m pretty fucking sure he stole my clothes, too.” Harry says, slumping down onto the bench where his clothes _were_ sitting. He hears the boy across the room rustle through his back, tugging out a light blue t-shirt and a pair of black basketball shorts.

He tosses them over at Harry and smiles. “I always bring an extra set.” He says, slinging his bag across his shoulder and walking towards the door. Harry watches the boy leave, eyes wide in surprise.

The boy opens the door and turns around, fluttering his eyelashes. “By the way, I’m Louis. I dig your boxers.”

And now, after three weeks and a brand new addition to Harry’s Spank Bank, Harry has been talking about Louis non-stop. Now, he’s only spoken to the boy once- _barely_ \- but he always finds out something new about Louis every day.

And Niall, Harry’s obnoxiously horrible bestfriend, is doing anything and everything he can to get Harry to speak to Louis again.

“You have to ask him tomorrow, okay? I saw this thing on twitter about these stupid fucking notecards and I’m gonna have Liam make some.”

“Uh, fuck that.” Liam says.

“C’mon, Lima Bean, it’ll be _fun_!” Niall begs. Liam still won’t budge, so Niall sends Harry to the crafts store down the road to buy a packet of note cards.

After an hour of glue and glitter and Niall’s horrible handwriting, the cards are finished.

“You’re really going to make me do this?” Harry groans, staring at the cards in embarrassment.

“ _Fuck_ yeah.”

 

-

 

When Harry walks into school tomorrow, he goes straight to Louis’ locker. He wants to get this over with as soon as possible.

Harry approaches him slowly, hands shuffling the note cards in front of him. He taps Louis on the shoulder, taking a few nervous steps back as Louis turns around.

“Hey, man.” Louis says while smiling brightly. Harry turns red and licks his lips, avoiding eye contacts by staring at the cards in his hands.

He stares at the first card and clears his throat. “Uh- um, did it hurt?”

“Did what hurt?” Louis asks, crossing his arms across his chest.

“Fa- um, falling from Heaven?” Harry says quietly; face turning a bright shade of red. When Louis doesn’t respond, Harry takes a brave look up at the boy in front of him.

Louis’ hand is pressed against his mouth to keep him from laughing, so Harry looks down quickly again. Louis says, “Yeah, kinda.”

Harry nods and shuffles the cards again, pulling at one in the very back of the pile.

“Do you have, um, a Band-Aid?” He says softly, face burning with embarrassment. A small crowd has gathered around them now, people watching a small sophomore hitting on a senior. Harry wipes sweat off his forehead and smiles softly at Louis’ response.

“Why? Did you hurt your knee while falling for me?” The crowd around them laughs as Harry nods his head.

“Do you- do you have a map?” Harry says, looking up into Louis’ blue eyes. “Because I’m getting lost in your eyes.” He finishes softly.

Louis smiles at Harry, taking a step towards him. “Uh, are you an interior decorator?”

“No, I’m not.” Louis says, taking another small step towards Harry.

“Well, um- when I saw you, the entire room became beautiful.” Harry says. The crowd around them coo’s as Louis smiles down at Harry, shaking his head.

Louis puts a hand on the back of Harry’s neck and tugs him foreword, pressing his lips to the younger boys’ cheek. The crowd claps and hoots while Harry turns even redder.

“I- I, uh, I don’t have a card for this.” He says, rifling through the cards frantically. Louis laughs softly and smiles.

“Harry,” He says, grabbing the cards from Harry’s hands. “Would you like to go the homecoming dance with me this Friday?”  Harry nods quickly, eyes widening in surprise.

Louis backs away and nods. “Great, I’ll pick you up at eight, okay?”

Harry smiles and nods again, heart beating wildly in his chest.

Niall’s surprised when he tells him at lunch later that day. “You mean to tell me that I spent _hours_ making those fucking cards just for _him_ to ask _you_?”

Harry shrugs and smiles. “I was reading my cards and he just- he just _kissed_ me and asked me to the dance. I didn’t expect it either.”

“Sappy bastard.” Niall mumbles, scowling at Louis from across the lunch room.

 

-

 

At the dance, Harry stood on his tip-toes and whispered _Is your dad a baker, because you have a hot set of buns_ into Louis’ ear. Louis laughed loudly and wrapped his arms around Harry tightly, pressing his cheek against the top of Harry’s head.

And if Louis uses the same exact pick-up lines to propose to Harry, no one really has to know, do they?

“ _Do you know what my shirt is made of? Husband material.”_

_“What the fuck, Louis.”_

 


End file.
